


Like Spooning a Dementor

by jijikaita



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jijikaita/pseuds/jijikaita
Summary: Cold feet are a serious problem.





	

Albus climbed into Scorpius’s bed around half past midnight, ducking under the curtains and burrowing beneath the covers. He was chilled, shivering even, after sitting out in the common room reading. Rather than his own, Scorpius’s bed was the obvious choice, already warm and, well, he didn't need an excuse for wanting to snuggle up with his boyfriend, now did he? Scorpius stirred, just slightly, as Albus edged behind him, tangling his legs with Scorpius’s in whatever way provided the most contact and the most warmth. He felt a swelling of pride at the small feat of not waking Scorpius. He'd really put that Slytherin craft of his to good work that night.

You see, he couldn't help it if his feet were often just a little bit cold, and he couldn't help it if they accidentally ended up on Scorpius, either. Scorpius’s claim that it was like waking up to a dementor spooning him was pure Malfoy hyperbole! Still, love could make the strongest men do funny things. Like wear socks to bed. It was a brilliant, conscientious compromise, and Albus was very pleased with himself for being a boyfriend of such high caliber.

Albus nuzzled the back of Scorpius’s neck and closed his eyes. He matched his breaths to Scorpius’s, a trick that very reliably led him to sleep when Scorpius nodded off before him, which was usually the case. That night, though, sleep would not come, and he was woefully aware of the cause.

Usually, when seared with touch of Albus’s icy toes, Scorpius would wake with a little whimper, sometimes asking him to remove them (always remembering, even when half asleep). Then, he would always -always- roll over and give him a kiss. Albus pouted, flustered and frustrated. He wanted that kiss. Needed it - if he was ever going to get to sleep. Albus shifted, giving Scorpius’s shoulder a firm nuzzle, and boldly rearranged his legs, all to no avail, no reaction, no kiss.

He'd resigned himself to heaving dramatic, woebegone sighs, when Scorpius finally stirred.

“Albus,” he grumbled hazily, drowning in his sleep, “too warm… please, Albus… Are… you? Wearing? Sockkks? I’ss… weird...”

Albus obliged, disentangling himself from Scorpius and kicking off his socks under the covers. His victorious grin beamed through the dark as he replaced his bare, slightly less frigid feet.

“Thank… you,” Scorpius sighed. He turned half way over, with heavy eyes and loosely pursed lips to Albus in the sloppy, sweet, perfect good night kiss he'd languished for, and soon they both were off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to "Imagine Person A has really cold feet and wears socks in bed to avoid making Person B cold" from otp-imagines-cult.tumblr.com


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